We are now deep into the season in which our cultural critics, like a gaggle of drunk uncles, kick off their shoes, retire to the den, and proceed to discuss, long past the point at which the rest of us would like to go to sleep, what it's all about.

You see, these shows we've been DVR-ing, these Oscar contenders we've been risking bedbugs for: they don't all just happen to have been released recently. No, they, like the birthmarks in Cloud Atlas, have messages for us; they link up. We're obsessed with the Civil War. We long for superheroes. We are, as ever, deeply confused about race.

To [...]

Can we wrap up all "Girls" chatter within a week? Pretty please? I think everyone's positions are crystal clear at this point.

— Vadim Rizov (@vrizov) June 18, 2012

Okay, folks, consider this a deadline.

I hate to be the 8-millionth person to jump on the bandwagon, but we need to talk about that show about young women on TV! In it, a group of young women have awful, degrading sexual relations due to their economic circumstances, and try to convince themselves that it’s anything but degrading. The characters are desperately struggling to make ends meet, but nearly every problem can be solved with a man ejaculating to an incongruous indie music soundtrack. And our heroine, with her back against the wall and not a dollar to her name, does what any woman in her situation would: get a job at a sensual massage parlor [...]

"Brian Williams' daughter throws a dinner party, like a grown-up. Someone brings opium tea. The guy who brought the opium tea listens to Laurie Simmons' daughter complaining about not having a job and says, 'I'm sorry but watching this is like watching Clueless,' which is a thing someone must have actually said to Judd Apatow at some point." —If you can handle reading one more thing about 'Girls,' make it this recap. Oh, right, also this, but I assume you've read it already.

Everyone knows you can't dust for vomit. But, man, Pink Floyd's fingerprints are all over this new song from the wonderful San Francisco band, Girls. (I know that metaphor is sort of backwards, since the thief, or "borrower," leaves his or her fingerprints on the thing they stole from somebody else, rather than vice versa, but for chronological reasons, it doesn't make sense to set it up that way.)

You never want to go for the flavor of the month-but I'm predisposed to like current indie-scene hero Christopher Owens of the San Francisco duo Girls because he reminds me of Jason Mewes, who plays the lovable doofus Jay in the Kevin Smith movies. And then the guy can also write these gorgeous melodies and sing all stuffed-up-and-stoned but still so heartbreakingly like he does on this clip of his song "Substance," up at Pitchfork, and-what're you gonna do? I'm all in. Plus, look how charming!

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After two or three decades of exposure, watching TV can feel a little bit like going home to visit your family. At first it's comforting to see so many old familiar faces. But… why don't these people ever change? Why are they so rigid and repetitive and tedious? And what makes them think they're remotely interesting, or even marginally entertaining?

On the internets, we refer to these humans as either "stereotypes" [...]

"[Lena Dunham] grew up in New York, and you can see it in her clothes and body: no white girl allows herself to look like that if she didn’t admire the rounder shapes, and more complicated stylings, that women of color tend to pursue as their idea of beauty." —There's so much going on in here. [Via]

"Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth."—Oscar Wilde, "The Critic as Artist"

An old friend once told me a story about her son Edison and this other kid he grew up with, Brendan. It seems that when they were really little, like six or so, the boys were on a soccer team, they were playing soccer and Edison fell and was hurt. And everybody clustered round and was all ooh, ahh, to make sure he was okay. Straightaway, Brendan totally faked an injury of his own, thumped to earth and started wailing, so that [...]

1. “New York’s not very friendly to strange girls, is it? I suppose you’ve got so many of your own already—and they’re all so fascinating you don’t care!”

2. “The chief characteristic of her generation is a kind of creative solipsism: nothing is better material than the absurdities and contradictions of her own life. Successfully mining personal experience of underachievement has, of course, its ironies.”

3. "As a girl, you are a delicate glass vase, waiting to be broken. You are a sweet-smelling flower, waiting for life’s hobnailed boots to trample you. That built-in suspense is part of your appeal."

4. "It is less mortifying to [...]

11. The pervasiveness of eye shadow.

10. A The Situation/Vanilla Ice look-alike in shiny jacket, aviator sunglasses and jauntily tilted hat.

9. General lack of pastiness.

8. None of the following were present: Colson Whitehead, Sloane Crosley, Sylvia Miles.

7. And yet: a racially proportioned crowd.

Today on the Internet: Asian Poses Dot Com is "the definitive guide to Asian poses." 1. It is run by a Chinese guy. 2. It is actually overly-researched to the point where something that seems racist and awkward actually begins to impress you with its internal logic? 3. Also still weird. [via]